


The Amazing Technicolor Celebratory Punch of Indara

by neevebrody



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Drunkenness, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-12
Updated: 2010-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:20:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neevebrody/pseuds/neevebrody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't the sex, or the idea that he was about to have sex, that had Rodney reeling, had every nerve ending in his body at Defcon One and blood banging through his head.  He'd had sex before and it was nothing like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Amazing Technicolor Celebratory Punch of Indara

Rodney sat on the dais, seething with incredulity.  Surrounded by the Indaran Chieftain, his wife and five sons, he'd been separated from the others for this, the prestigious Gratiae Celebration.  He scanned the long tables of villagers spread out before them, but was still unable to locate his teammates.

Rodney sighed.  The celebration wasn't bad as celebrations went.  Certainly a hell of a lot better than most treatment they received.  And it was all for him.  That alone should have made Rodney happy, especially since the people of Indara were celebrating his genius.    But, as uncharacteristic as it was for him to refuse having accolades heaped upon him, not to mention a parade and a celebration in his honor, Rodney just wanted to go home.

This had all come from nothing really - the same sort of thing Rodney did ten times a day on Atlantis.  But to the Indarans, he was King for a Day, their savior, the god that had done no more than figure out how to correct an EMF problem sapping energy from the village's shield generators.  Rodney looked out over the crowd again.  By the light of the torches, he could see many of them smiling and raising their mugs his way, and the irony didn't escape him.  To a man of science, the glaring disparity of people who had the use of a planetary shield generator yet lived their lives in the Dark Ages was just one more reason to curse the Wraith. 

He'd wanted no part of this, but Teyla had taken him aside and explained that the Indarans were a jovial and appreciative society and it would be wrong of him not to accept and participate in the celebration.  Sheppard had nodded in agreement – he always agreed with Teyla in these matters – and Ronon had just glared.

He half-listened as Ontarae, the Chieftain, and his spouse droned on about something or other, deliberately ignoring Ontarae's youngest, twins, who had peppered Rodney with questions from the moment the celebration began.  And if it was irony he was looking for, he needed to look no further than the dictates of this little soiree.

The honored guest was forbidden from partaking of the celebratory fare, neither the food _nor_ the drink, and God, he could use a drink.  He'd been served a special meal prepared by the wife of the Chieftain.  To the Indarans, this symbolized the guest of honor's superiority and singled him out from the rest, which, again, should have pleased Rodney, but fell short somewhere along the way.

If he hadn't felt so alone and uncomfortable, Rodney might have actually enjoyed all the attention.  The first hour or so had been somewhat bearable, but now it was beginning to run along a fine line with torture.  A simple conversation about the basic properties and concepts of physics with Ontarae and his sons turned into quiz show hell, as he was unable to escape the incessant queries from the twins.  He rolled his eyes skyward and prayed this would all be over soon.

Presently, as the crowd began to disperse, Rodney was finally able to locate Ronon, head and shoulders above most of the villagers.  He wasn't at all surprised to see that Ronon was still eating and was sure whatever they'd been served was far more edible than what he'd herded into the four corners of his own platter.  After a few more villagers had gotten up from the tables, he could see Teyla and Sheppard as well.  He glanced at his watch.  It was late and from the way Sheppard looked, he'd be handing over the keys to the jumper. 

Speaking of home, Rodney turned to the Chieftain and made his excuses, saying they really needed to get back.  Ontarae wouldn't hear of their leaving and explained that it was customary for the honored guest to stay over to further enjoy the hospitality of Indara.  Rodney wasn't sure he knew what that meant, or even if he wanted to find out.  He just really, really wanted to go home.  Now.

~~~~

Finally allowed to leave the dais, Rodney made a beeline for his teammates.  It was official, both Ronon and Sheppard were drunk in his estimation.  Even Teyla was a bit tipsy, but utterly coherent compared to the other two.  Rodney remembered the Chieftain's wife mentioning something about the celebratory punch being brewed especially for these occasions and was quite potent.

Rodney explained to the others what Ontarae had told him about staying over.  Teyla agreed that it would be highly offensive to leave the planet before morning, and Rodney decided to overlook the little hiccup as she finished her sentence.

"Can you handle that one?" he asked her, pointing to Ronon.

Ronon drew himself up to full height and glared down at Rodney.  "Don't need anyone to handle me."  His voice was about as slick as sandpaper and he swayed slightly when he stood up.

"The guest huts are not far, Rodney," Teyla said.  "I think we can make it.  Besides, Ronon knows I will leave him where he falls if he does not."  She smiled sweetly.  "Good night," she said, taking Ronon's arm.  "Good night, John."  Rodney watched her lead Ronon away from the table.

"Hmm?  G'night," mumbled Sheppard.  He sat there looking at his mug as if debating whether or not to take another drink.

"They're gone already," Rodney said, his voice skirting the edge of human patience.

John looked up and a wide grin eased across his face.  "McKay!?"

Rodney winced and stuffed a finger in his ear to stop the ringing.  "Right here, Colonel.  Can you stand on your own, or—"

"Whad'ya mean can I stand up?  Wha—you—you think I'm drunk?  I am not drunk."

Rodney had to grin.  He'd never seen Sheppard really intoxicated and he felt a certain smugness that at least he would feel like a human being in the morning compared to the rest of them.  He took Sheppard's arm and helped him stand.  "Sure," he said.  "You're not drunk."  Rodney grabbed him around the waist when he started to sway.

"All right, Sheppard, here we go, now.  It's really very simple, you just put one foot in front of the other, see, and keep doing that until I tell you to stop.  Got it?"

John nodded.  It was slow going at first, but it got a little better once John got used to it.  The huts were just a short walk away, but scaling the Great Wall on Rianis might have been easier for Rodney to endure.

"Come on, Sheppard—help me out here."

"Had a good time."

"Yes, I can tell."

"What?  I'm shober."

Rodney stared at him.  "Yeah, right.  And I'm the Archbishop of Canterbury."

John stopped.  He looked at Rodney and past him.  "No, no, no—your name is McKay—R'dney, or—or Mer'dith," he said pointing his fingers in Rodney's face.

Rodney snorted in spite of himself.  He hefted John up again and continued walking.  Thank God, the hut wasn't that much further.

Patting Rodney's head, John mumbled, "Thanks for helping me, Archie."

"Oh for—it's Rodney, you—God, you're loopier than a sack of squirrels."

John smiled and then he was right in Rodney's face.  Rodney thought he was either going to say something or puke.  Just to be on the safe side, he was hurrying to unwrap John from around him when Sheppard let out a long, loud belch.

"Good God!  Ugh!  That's—that's disgusting."

"Sorry."  John was still smiling sappily.  Poking Rodney in the chest, he said, "You're kinna cute when you're mad—'s anyone ever told you that?"

"Yeah?  Well brace yourself, you're going to see fucking adorable if you don't help me out here—Jeez, for someone so thin, you weigh a ton."

John giggled, but Rodney saw he made a slight effort to walk a little straighter—for about two steps.

"Jesus, Sheppard.  C'mon, we're almost there."

"Your hut or mine?" John asked.

"Ha ha.  I wish.  I could wake up with a hangover just from breathing near you.  Unfortunately, we're sharing.  The alternative is that I get to spend the night with that Chieftain's twin sons, and there is no way in hell I'm doing that."

John stopped again and turned to Rodney.  He looked thoughtful and finally said, "You don't like sleeping with guys?"

Rodney didn't answer.  One, because it was a stupid question and two, because Sheppard's voice sounded a bit more sober than it had two minutes ago.

"Finally!  Here we are."  Rodney pushed John forward.  "Watch your--yes, that's right, you have to duck.  Apparently no one on Indara makes doors you can walk through upright."

Once inside the hut, he looked at John.  He couldn't just leave him like that, although pushing him down on the bed and letting him fend for himself sounded more tempting by the minute.  He decided to help him off with his thigh holster and jacket.

"R'dney?"  Sheppard's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Rodney pulled John's jacket down over his arms.  "Yes, still right here, what is it?"

"I—I have to take a piss."

Rodney rolled his eyes.  John started to fumble with his belt.  "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Rodney cried, grabbing his arms and spinning him back around toward the door.  "Not in here you're not.  You should have thought about that—oh, outside, Sheppard."  He steered John back through the door, barely managing to keep his head from smacking the frame.

Dear God, what had he done to deserve this?  Pissed off Indarans or not, Rodney wished he was back on Atlantis, content and snug in his own bed.  Even being awakened by Simpson at three in the morning was preferable to this.  "Okay, you're outside," he told Sheppard, holding him at arm's length.  He glanced around to make sure they were alone.    "Don't wander off, just hurry, please."  Rodney watched him amble a few steps forward and stop.  He appeared to be fumbling again.

"Rooodneeey?" he whined after a moment.

"What, you all done?"

"I can't—I can't get—"

"Oh for—" Rodney stepped up behind him.  "What seems to be the problem?"

"Belt.  I—can you help me?"

"Sheppard you don't—all you need to do is unzip.  Jesus, you have done this before, right? I mean, all by yourself? 

John turned sideways and looked at Rodney.  Rodney would have left him standing there if it hadn't been for that little boy voice.  Sheppard didn't use it often, but it was Rodney's kryptonite.  He wondered if John used it on women, too, because it worked on Rodney every time and, of course, if _he_ had a weapon like that, he'd sure as hell use it. 

John was still trying to undo the belt.  Rodney pushed John's hand away, turned him forward and lowered his zipper.  "There, now.  Hurry up before someone walks by."

"Can you take it out for me?" he asked in that same small voice.

Rodney swallowed hard.  This was above and beyond, but Sheppard was—

"'m drunk R'dney.  C'mon, I don't wanna piss myself."

"Fine, whatever," Rodney said reaching around him. He glanced around again.  If anyone saw them, it might be a little difficult to explain. "I suppose you want me to hold it for you too."

"Would you?  Thanks."

Rodney closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  This would be so much easier if he was drunk as well, but they were friends after all, and really if you couldn't hold a drunk friend's dick to help him take a piss every now and then, what kind of friend were you?  Somehow, though, it seemed to Rodney this was crossing a line.  This was Sheppard.  He was about to reach into Sheppard's pants, take out Sheppard's dick and hold it for him while he relieved himself.  It was, well…hell, it was something he'd never remember come morning anyway, so Rodney did as he was asked.  He waited for the all clear, shook John off and tucked him back in.  "All right, let's go," Rodney said, turning back.

Having successfully navigated their way back into the hut, Rodney started to unbutton John's shirt, fighting off John's helping hands. After smacking them away for the third time, John seemed to give up and started in on Rodney's shirt instead.

Rodney sighed.  "Yes, yes, Sheppard.  I'm sober, remember?  I can do that myself, thank you.  Would you please put your arms down so I can get your shirt off?"

John obediently put his arms by his side and Rodney peeled the shirt over them.  John's lower lip protruded slightly and, oh joy, a pouting, inebriated Sheppard was all he needed to make this day complete.  "There now, let's just get—"

"Tee shirt," John said.

"You can sleep in that," Rodney said, bending down to get at the strap of the thigh holster.  John stopped him, his hands going everywhere, poking at Rodney's face, touching his hair and placing both palms on Rodney's chest.  Rodney grabbed John's wrists and John's eye widened.

"Rodney, I—I can't feel my body."

"I'm not surprised," Rodney answered.

"Why, wha—what's wrong?"

"Because it's my body you're feeling up, now if you don't mind," Rodney said, pushing John's arms back to his side.  But John didn't leave them there; he started poking around his own body.

Rodney shook his head.  "There now, better?  Can you feel that?"

John nodded.  "My face is a little numb."

"Again, I'm not surprised, Colonel.  Now, let's get that—"  Rodney looked up to see John still poking at himself and he couldn't help but grin at the goofy look on John's face. "Thank God you're a happy drunk."

John started on a ramble about how he couldn't sleep in his tee shirt, and Rodney felt a little like he was babysitting a five-year-old.  More to get him to shut up than anything, he pulled it over John's head, then had to grab his shoulders to steady him.  A strange look fell over John's face.

"Sheppard, look, I know we're friends and all but if you throw up on me, I swear to Christ I'll—"

"Friends?"

"Friends, yes—we're friends, but if you hurl without proper warning, it will severely test the depths of my commitment.  You catching my drift here?"  Without thinking, Rodney started on John's belt, pulling it free from the buckle.

Suddenly John threw his arms around Rodney.  He leaned into him causing Rodney to step back and push John off.  "Colonel?  What was that for?" he asked.

"A hug – friendly hug," John slurred.

Rodney nodded and again reached for the buckle of John's holster.

"Friends kiss too," John mumbled.

Rodney looked up, eyes wide.  "No.  Friends do not kiss, especially when one friend is drunk and the other is excruciatingly sober." 

"No?"  John sounded crushed.  "Then I don't want to be your friend anymore."

Rodney stopped trying to get the holster off and squinted up at him.  "What?  A little help here, please?"

John reached down and stilled Rodney's hands.  "'Cause I wanna kiss you."

Rodney didn't say anything as he straightened up.  John veered closer and kissed him.  Rodney immediately pushed him away, wiping his mouth.  

John frowned.  "What?  I'm a good kisser."

"Yes, well a little less tongue, a little more lips, hmm?  If I want to drown, I'll go stick my head in the celebratory punch, which is obviously where you spent most of the evening."

The look on John's face almost made Rodney want to apologize.  He supposed that sounded kind of harsh, so he didn't try to stop John, when after a moment of groping, John finally centered Rodney's face between his hands, leaned in and kissed him again.

It was much better this time.  Holding on seemed to steady Sheppard and Rodney's hands found John's waist – for further stability.  Rodney overlooked the errant bumping of noses and inelegant clashing of teeth because mostly their mouths worked together just right and he began to feel like maybe this whole celebration thing might not have been such a bad idea after all.  When John swept just the tip of his tongue along Rodney's lower lip, without thinking about what he was doing or why, Rodney opened up and deepened the kiss.

John pulled back, weaving.  "Damn, R'dney.  You're a good kisser too."  Rodney smiled then groaned when John rocked his hips against him.  "I'm hard," John said.  The goofy, loopy voice was gone, replaced by a low, sensual drawl that licked the base of Rodney's spine, lengthening his own cock.

"Jesus, Sheppard," Rodney breathed, resting his forehead against John's.  He tried to tell himself it was the alcohol.  John was drunk and would never do this otherwise – and they were teammates – and Sheppard wouldn't remember it anyway, which was somehow more tempting than comforting.

What was he to do?  John was shit-faced, three sheets and all that, but Christ, John's mouth, his warm body molded against Rodney and despite the copious amount of fermented grains he'd ingested, the crook of John's neck smelled damn good – that cheap-ass aftershave he wore, the stuff that couldn't smell good on anybody but Sheppard – mixed with a little sweat and leather. 

Rodney, in spite of his soberness, or maybe because of it, couldn't deny his arousal, and now was not the time to think about how long it had been since he'd last had sex with anyone other than his own hand.  He wasn't going to think about how many times he'd imagined Sheppard naked.  He wasn't going to think about seeing him in the showers that time back from the mud hole planet.  He wasn't going to think about how many times he'd felt the warm rush of his own release while imagining John's mouth or the long line of his torso, or his cock.  He wasn't.

The hard ridge of John's erection dug into the crease of Rodney's hip, and how the hell was he supposed to resist—

"Blow me?" John whispered in Rodney's ear.

Rodney groaned again.  Images of himself on his knees between John's legs ran through his mind.  He swallowed hard and looked up.  "Look, Sheppard, you're drunk.  You don't know what you're saying.  Here, you just need to get some sleep.  Let me help—"

John pushed his index finger against Rodney's lips.  "Maybe," he said.  "Doesn't mean I don't know what I want."

Rodney blinked.  "No?" 

John shook his head, looked into Rodney's eyes and smeared his finger around Rodney's mouth.  "Please, Rodney.  I bet your mouth's all warm and—"  John began to fumble with his own pants, trying to push them down.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Wait just a minute," Rodney said, trying his best to slow things down.  Dammit, John wasn't making it easy to say no.

It was those chameleon eyes, that low voice and that damn _please.  _As far as Rodney was concerned, that combination was lethal.  It could bring down entire civilizations – without a single shot.  He had no defense against it, not that he was looking very hard for one.  Sheppard wanted a blowjob.  Simple.  He could do that and it surprised Rodney how quickly he'd come to that decision.

Dropping John's thigh holster to the ground, Rodney eased him back onto the bed that was covered with assorted skins and animal furs.  Just once, he'd like to spend a night on a planet that wasn't some cheap Ren Fest imitation or a horrible remake of 10,000 Years, BC.  He bent down and untied John's boots, pulling in vain.  "You know," he said.  "This is so much easier when you cooperate."

John hummed above him.

Rodney sighed heavily.  "Point your toes for God's sake."  John did and the boots pulled free.  Next, Rodney slid Sheppard's pants past thighs, knees and socked feet.  John's long legs, shadowed with silky black hair, were warm beneath Rodney's hands.  Really, the sight of those legs, with the black military issue socks pooled around the ankles shouldn't have been so hot, but it was.  It shouldn't have made Rodney's mouth go dry or his dick get harder, but it did, especially when he followed the legs up to the full view of a very naked Colonel Sheppard.

Running his hands along John's warm skin, fantasy and reality scarcely a breath apart, the thought that he really shouldn't take advantage of the situation poked at him annoyingly.  Whatever the circumstances, this _was_ unfair and he really, really shouldn't do it. But then he looked up to see John watching him and whatever measure of resistance he had left evaporated like raindrops on hot asphalt.

Rodney bent and nosed his way through the wiry black hair, brushing his cheek along John's semi-hard cock.  Sheppard smelled good here, too – sex mixed with a hint of gun oil and for reasons Rodney intended to explore later, that was so very hot.

He welcomed the heft of John's cock in his hand and was confident he could have it back to full hardness in no time.  Wrapping his hand around the base, he licked a long stripe up the underside and flicked his tongue side to side at the head.  John moaned from somewhere deep in his throat – a sound that swam straight to Rodney's groin.  He took John fully inside then and sucked hard, working up and down, moving his hand along the length, but Sheppard didn't seem to be getting any harder.

He licked up the shaft again and was just about to tongue the slit, when a loud, obnoxious and whiney snore filled the hut.  He looked up.  John's eyes were closed, his mouth slack.

Horrid memories began to wash over Rodney.  Julie Nordstrom after the Prom, passing out right after he had rounded second base heading for third.  Kelly Culken in college.  Thinking he was well on his way to hot sex, Rodney had her spread out on his bed and had just started licking her when looking up, he found her asleep.  And now, Sheppard. 

God damn it, he'd had Sheppard's cock in his mouth, would have given him a hell of a blowjob, and the son of a bitch passes out on him.  Rodney's stomach burned with disappointment and desire, or was it hunger, hell who cared?  He stood up and threw one of the skins across John's nude body, then stripped off his shirt and kicked his shoes into the side of the hut.  He collapsed on the other bed and made a mental note to assign Zelenka to M7X-443.  If he ever set foot on this planet again, it would be light years too soon.

~~~~

He was up and ready to go before any of the others.  Ontarae's wife had prepared breakfast, but that didn't deter him.  His hosts beamed as Rodney couldn't eat fast enough.  Even the dark, rich liquid that passed for coffee tasted good.

Teyla was the first of the team to join him.  Rodney smiled smugly as she confessed to a slight unease and a headache.  She and Rodney were conversing with Ontarae when John and Ronon strolled up to the long table.  Both declined food, but eagerly accepted mugs of the hot, dark brew.

Rodney stood up abruptly, extended his hand to the Chieftain and assured him someone would be checking on the shield generator periodically.  He nodded to the wife, thanked her for breakfast and with a curt, "think you can stay awake long enough to fly us home," directed to Sheppard, he headed for the jumper.

He neither slowed down nor varied his stride as Sheppard caught up with him.  "What's with you, McKay?  You were downright rude.  Teyla's back there making sure there are no hard feelings, but—"

"Excuse me, Colonel, but I've spent enough time on M7X-443 to last me several lifetimes.  The sooner I'm off this planet the better."  Rodney kept his eyes straight ahead.

"Is this about last night?" John asked, loping along beside Rodney.

Rodney hoped the hitch in his step wasn't noticeable.  "I don't know what you're talking about.  Unless, of course, you're referring to the celebration where everyone got to celebrate except me and I ended up—no, it has nothing to do with last night.  I'm tired, I'm dirty, I'm frustrated and I just want to go home.  So, you think you can manage, or do I have to do that too?"

"Frustrated?"  John grabbed his arm.  "Goddammit, McKay, slow down."

Rodney did stop then and leveled his gaze on John's hand until he removed it.

"What's your problem?  I would have thought a celebration in your honor would have made you happy.  I'd have figured you wouldn't stop talking about it for weeks."

"Well you figure wrong," Rodney said, glaring at him.

"Rodney, I don't have total amnesia about last night. I know—"

"How unfortunate for you.  As for me, I'm going to try my best to forget all about this trip and about last night."  He stared pointedly at Sheppard.  "All about last night—"  He cut his eyes sideways to see Ronon and Teyla catching up to them.  "Everything," he said under his breath, before continuing on to the jumper.

~~~~

Thank God, there hadn't been another mission scheduled that day.  After the debriefing, Rodney checked in at the lab and gave Radek the good news about his new assignment on Indara.  Satisfied there was nothing pressing that required his attention, he decided to do something completely out of character.  "Zelenka, if anyone's looking for me, I'll be taking a nap," he said, then stalked out of the lab.

~~~~

Finally back in his quarters, Rodney firmly put the last twenty-four hours behind him, and got rid of what was left under a hot shower.  Warm, clean and incredibly tired, he lay across his bed, towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his hair still damp.  The softly muffled sounds of the ocean outside hugged his ears.  He breathed deeply, exhaling slowly like a leaky tire, sinking lower and lower into the mattress with each breath.  It was quiet and God, what a blessing.  Sheppard had snored and snorted the entire night.

Sheppard.  Jesus.  He'd touched him, kissed him.  He'd buried his face between Sheppard's legs, had his cock in his mouth, and damn, it had been everything Rodney had imagined and more.

His hand strayed beneath the towel as he thought of the sound of John's moans and the way John's voice had shivered through him with those two words – _blow me_.  Rodney closed his eyes and recalled the look John had given him as he'd watched.  Sliding his hand idly up and over his cock, what Rodney thought he'd seen in that look warmed him like standing in the Lantean sun. 

His hand moved steadily over his thickening shaft as, once again, he was touching John, licking that long, straight cock, teasing him.  Rodney opened his legs wider, seeking the warmth of his balls, rolling them softly.  He wet a finger and slid it behind his sack, massaging the taut, sensitive skin there thinking of sucking Sheppard off, of what would have happened – Sheppard squirming beneath him, hands buried in the sheets, hips thrusting wildly.

Rodney was too far gone to stop.  He sped up his strokes, shortening them, knuckles continually twisting over the sensitive bundle of nerves.  He imagined Sheppard out of control, of being down low on his cock and John losing it, coming in his mouth, pulse after pulse down his throat and, oh God, he was right there…right there…

Then he heard John calling his name and Jesus, that voice, calling his name.  It was so clear as Rodney's thoughts shattered around him.  He came hard, his spine curling off the bed as he shot onto his stomach, filling his hand, the phantom taste of John's name on his lips.

He didn't bother to clean up.  He'd need to move for that and the heady mixture of a hot shower and jerking off had plunged him deep into a stupor.  He could still hear John calling his name as he fell further and further down.

He woke with a start, with that feeling of not knowing if he'd been asleep minutes, hours or days.  Someone was calling his name.  He opened his eyes to Sheppard.  How did he—was this still a dream?  Sheppard looked so—

"Rodney, you all right?  I've been standing outside calling you, are you—"

Rodney bolted up and pulled the towel back over him, quickly wiping over his stomach and chest.  "What—what are you—how did you get in here?"  Silly question, he knew very well Sheppard could go anywhere he pleased on Atlantis, but , dammit, that didn't mean he _should_.  "Jesus, can't anyone have a little privacy?"

John looked away.  "I'm sorry.  I thought something was wrong," he answered.  Rodney felt blood rush straight to his cheeks and the tips of his ears.  "I called you and when you didn't answer, I just—I didn't think you'd be doing anything—"

"I was taking a nap," he snapped.  "And you've seen for yourself that I'm perfectly fine, so you can leave now, thank you.  Why aren't you leaving?"

"I wanted to talk to you about last night.  You're obviously upset about something.  Teyla explained that I was—that Ronon and I were drunk and I just wanted to make—"

"Wanted to make sure you hadn't done anything to hurt my feelings or make me angry?  No conduct unbecoming?  I can assure you, Colonel, after I helped you undress and get into bed, you did none of those things, okay.  Feel better?  Now if you'll excuse me, since my nap's been ruined, I'd like to get dressed and return to the lab."

"Rodney?"  John's voice was quiet and still.  "I just wanted to say I'm sorry if I offended you—although it didn't seem like you were offended or—"

"You remember what happened?  All of it?"

"Yeah, I was drunk, Rodney, not unconscious."

"No.  No, that came later, didn't it?"  He caught his slip and looked up.

"You—you're mad at me because I passed out?" he asked, that silly Sheppard grin slashed across his face.

"No.  Of course not.  Who said I was mad?  I'd just like to point out how rude it is to, ah, get someone all worked up and then, ah, then not have the decency to stick around to get the blowjob of your life."  Rodney looked straight ahead and crossed his arms over his chest.

John leaned against Rodney's dresser.  "Oh, so I got you all worked up?" he asked.

Rodney's eyes narrowed.  "You know," he continued, his chin lifting higher with each word.  "You're the one who missed out."

John cocked an eyebrow.  "Oh I'm sure of that," he said as he sat down beside Rodney.  "So you were gonna give me the best head I've ever had, huh?  Can I get a rain-check on that?"

Rodney turned to John and opened his mouth to say something, then thinking better of it, said, "But—you—you were drunk.  You were just horny and drunk, right?"

John nodded, a little glint in his eye.  "Like I said, Rodney, I may have been drunk but that didn't mean I didn't know what I wanted."

"But you just wanted it _because_ you were intoxicated."

"And how do you know that?" he asked, turning sideways toward Rodney.  "So I'd have to be out of my head to want you to blow me?  Is that what you're saying?"

Rodney saw his point.  "Well, no, it's just—"

John shifted and kind of ducked his head, scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck.  "What would you say if—I mean, what if that wasn't the first time I've—you know, thought about it."  John seemed to be studying the waffle pattern of the blanket, picking at it with his fingers.

Rodney could have been back under the hot shower.  His skin was clammy and scalding at the same time and even though he'd just come, there was definitely a stirring beneath his towel.  "Really?" was all he could manage.

John looked up and smiled. 

"But, you're—I mean, I always thought—you were, you know."

John laid the hand he'd been using to pick at the blanket on Rodney's knee.  "Straight?  I thought the same about you."

Rodney dropped his gaze to John's hand.  "Then, why—"

John squeezed Rodney's knee, which caused an immediate twitch of Rodney's cock.  "Just seemed like the right time to take a chance."  John leaned in slowly as his hand edged up Rodney's thigh.  Rodney didn't move.  "Kinda like now," John whispered.

Rodney's heart beat a rhythm he was sure could be heard in the gateroom.  He wiped his palm on the towel and reached for John's shoulder to meet him halfway. 

Just as John brushed their lips together, a piercing alarm began to sound.  Rodney pulled away and put his hand to his ear.  Coming up empty, he grabbed for John's earpiece.

"Radek?  Yeah, this better be—you're kidding!  But I went—yes, yes, I went all through those protocols."  He jumped up, securing the towel around his waist and headed for his laptop on the desk.  "Are the computers—they're still up, thank God."  His fingers flew over the keys.  "What can you tell from your end?  We aren't broadcasting an alert beacon are we?  Yeah, yeah that's what I'm getting here too."

He was vaguely aware of John at his side, and only broke voice slightly as John leaned in and whispered, "rain-check" in his ear.  Rodney quickly switched radios, handing John's over.  "I don't think this is anything serious," he told John.  "Those damn quarantine sensors—but there's no evidence of contagion."

Fitting his earpiece, he gave John an _I-really-don't-want-you-to-go_ look and was surprised when John kissed him again.  On the mouth.  It was just a soft, chaste kiss, but with a promise of things to come as he nibbled on Rodney's lip before letting go.

"We still need to check things out.  I'll be in touch," John said fitting his radio over his ear.

Rodney nodded and watched him walk out the door.  "Yes, yes, Radek, I'm listening.  I'm—right, I'll be there in five minutes."

~~~~

Thankfully, the disturbance turned out to be a false alarm.  There was no contagion.  Rodney's new protocols were so strict on first response, that the plant spores Lorne and his team had tracked back to Atlantis triggered the sensors.  At the debriefing, Rodney had patiently explained that he was just trying to be thorough.  He hadn't been at all amused by Ronon and Zelenka's assertions that he'd written allergen detection into the protocols on purpose, even though, clearly, everyone else had been.

After a late dinner in the mess, Rodney had finally finished recording the data from the incident.  He'd waited an eternity for the Botany lab to provide him with an analysis of the spores.  Normally, he would have just stormed the lab intimidating everyone in sight until he got what he needed, but ever since he and Katie had broken up, he preferred to steer clear.  Still, he was a man of little patience.

Lying across his bed, he thought about Sheppard.  He'd tried very hard not to stare at John in the conference room.  Rain-check?  Yeah, that was one thing he'd wait for.  He closed his eyes.  It was late, or early, depending on your point of view, and he was just on the verge of deciding he could sleep in his clothes when his door opened.

Sheppard was walking toward him.  The lights dimmed as John reached down and unstrapped his thigh holster.  Letting it drop to the floor, he kept walking until he reached the edge of the bed.  Rodney watched as he unbuttoned his outer shirt and let it slip from his arms before climbing aboard.

Rodney felt the blood rush to his cock as John made his way up his body.  John was solid and warm and his weight on Rodney was the weight of a man.  Welcome, and something he hadn't felt in a long time.

He fisted the hem of John's shirt just as John ground their hips together.  "Jesus," Rodney moaned right before John's mouth found his.  The kiss was hard, desperate, demanding, and Rodney had to slide his hands to John's hips to still them.

"Jesus, Sheppard," he said between kisses, "you're going—have to—slow, slow down."

John pulled back just enough so their lips barely touched.  "Yeah?"

Rodney nodded.  "Yes—you're going to make me—"  He felt his cheeks redden and searched John's eyes for understanding.

John answered in a voice that was low and lazy and sounded like sex.  "Well, we don't want that," he said.  "I want you all worked up when you give me the blowjob of my life."

Rodney pushed John back.  His lips were flushed and swollen and, damn, that was so hot.  There was no smile, no grin, no mirth in John's eyes at all, just raw, naked need that made Rodney feel dizzy.

He pushed John all the way back, sank his hand into that crazy mass of hair and pulled him into another kiss.  It was slick and hot and their lips did a crazy kind of dance as they tried to stay together while balancing precariously as they shifted on the tiny bed.

"Lie back," Rodney said, his voice hoarse and broken as he pushed John down.  John raised his hips so Rodney could tug his pants over them.  Rodney didn't care that John still had his boots on, nor that John's pants were only down far enough to get at his cock.  They'd do the amenities some other time – there was just one thing Rodney wanted as he raked his eyes over the man spread out beneath him waiting, wanting.

It wasn't the sex, or the idea that he was about to have sex, that had Rodney reeling, had every nerve ending in his body at Defcon One and the blood banging through his head.  He'd had sex before and it was nothing like this.  The only thing remotely close to this was sex with Yuri, after he'd been sent to Russia.  Rodney wasn't sure exactly what that said about his sexuality and he didn't have time to debate it now.  Because underneath him was John Sheppard, here because he wanted to be, here because he wanted Rodney and if Rodney wasn't careful, that right there would be enough to bring him off.

He shoved his hands up under John's shirt as he nosed around the base of John's hard dick.  John squirmed beneath him as Rodney's hands feathered across his nipples.  Rodney delighted in the sharp hiss of John's breath when he rolled them between his fingers.

Rodney didn't expect the pathetic little mewl that caught in his throat when he sank down over John, but it felt so good to a have cock in his mouth again.  That it was John's made it all the better.

"Fuck," John moaned as Rodney's hand followed his mouth up, twisting at the head, teasing the slit with his tongue.  He grabbed John's hips and let the thick shaft slide in and out between his lips.  John's breathing was already becoming tight and shallow as he arched up into Rodney and twisted his hand in Rodney's hair.

He pulled off John with an obscenely wet noise and looked up.  "You like this?" he asked, stroking John slowly, running his thumb idly around the head, tongue darting out to lick away the sweet, sticky fluid gathered there.

"Fuck, yes," John gritted, pushing Rodney back down.  "Christ, Rodney—don't fucking stop until you fucking make me come." 

Rodney groaned as he swallowed John down again.  He wasn't sure if his own dick could get any harder.  It ached for attention, but if he touched himself now, he'd come then and there.

He concentrated on John, staying low, working in short strokes, and that brought another loud, low moan.  Sucking harder, he worked faster and faster in time with John's breathing.  John was close, his dick had gotten harder and his thigh was like iron under Rodney's hand.  Rodney raised his eyes to John's and slid his hand back underneath John's shirt.

"Jesus, Rodney," John choked out as Rodney pinched one of the pebbled nubs – hard.  John's hand tightened in Rodney's hair.  "Rodney, I'm—"

Rodney pulled off and jacked John to completion – watching the thin white ropes stripe John's stomach and chest.  Rodney almost lost it again at the sight of John, listening to his breathless nonsense – not quite words but more than moans and God, he was the hottest thing Rodney had ever seen.

John's hold on Rodney relaxed as his hips stuttered out his final spasms.  Rodney stroked John's thigh and licked at the last of the sticky white fluid dribbling over his fingers, gentling John down until his breathing evened out. 

After a moment, John tugged Rodney up into a kiss and he couldn't hold back a moan as John slipped his tongue inside, tickling the roof of Rodney's mouth, sliding across his teeth, and Rodney shuddered as he realized that John was tasting himself.

"Now, you," he breathed against Rodney's lips.  He had Rodney's pants undone in seconds.

Rodney knew all it would take to bring him off was John's touch and if he was going to have John's mouth on his cock, he wanted it to last.  He shoved John's hand down inside his boxers.  "God, John, I'm so close," he said between kisses.  He let out a long sigh as John took him and quickly found a rhythm.  John's whispered encouragement slipped into Rodney's ears and settled somewhere low in his belly. 

When John's thumb slicked across the head of Rodney's cock, Rodney arched up away from him.  The colors behind his eyes swirled and lengthened like the arc from a prism, stabbing into the back of his brain as his hips jerked helplessly, spilling over John's hand.  He let his head fall forward again and welcomed the anointing of John's hot breath.  He let John pull him back in to keep him from falling all the way into the blackness, let John kiss him through the aftershocks, his hand still feathered on Rodney's cock.

John slid over and Rodney crumpled in a heap beside him.  "Sorry," he whispered.  "I just—"

"Got all worked up," John finished for him.

Rodney felt John's hand slip beneath his shirt.  "You were right," John said.

"I'm always right," Rodney said dreamily.  "What about?"

John sighed.  "Blowjob of my life…"

Rodney cracked open an eye

John leaned over and kissed him again.  He had a puzzled look on his face as he pulled away.

"What?" Rodney asked.

"Rodney, where did you—"

"You ever been to Siberia?"

John shook his head.  "I used to work in Antarctica once upon a time."

Rodney smiled.  "Trust me, Siberia's worse, much worse.  It's damn cold and damn lonely." 

They shared a long look.  Rodney hoped there'd be more time like this, time to be close, to talk, but he was on the threshold of a sex-induced coma and now just wasn't that time.  He slid his thumb across John's lower lip.  "Next time you can return the favor."

"Gladly," John whispered, before pushing himself up.  Rodney caught his wrist.  He didn't want John to leave, even though they'd both have to be up again in just a few short hours.

"You know," John said.  "The last thing we need is for someone to see me leaving your quarters in the morning, which will be," he checked his watch, "too soon."

Rodney watched him lift his hips and pull his pants back up.  He grinned at the way John's tee shirt stuck to him. 

John leaned down close.  "You realize this will be… complicated.  Our positions, the regs—"

Rodney just nodded.  He thought it was worth the risk and he was heartened to think that John felt the same and at least considered the possibility of a "this."

John lifted Rodney's chin and kissed him once more, a soft kiss cut short before it could become something more.  "'Til next time," he whispered. 

Rodney watched him grab his shirt and holster from the floor. With a last look over his shoulder, John was through the door. 

The last thing Rodney thought about before finally succumbing to the oppressive need for sleep were those words that held so much promise – _next time._

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: erda3


End file.
